The Long Way Home
by Champagnepony
Summary: Clay's long awaited return isn't going how he had hoped for, can he step up despite what everyone thinks when it matters the most?
1. Chapter 1

This was suppose to be the first story posted but it went a bit awry & needed fixing for the beginning to match the end, I think I've got it worked out finally so I'll post it now as an apology for the dismally depressing first story! We are still on season 2 here so it won't be in keeping with season 3

* * *

Clay shifted, fidgeting at the trickle of sweat running down his spine, the slow build of the morning sun beating down in him.

"Bravo 2, 6, this – 1, -, coming - you"

Clay fidgeted again, twisting his radio as if it would clear the odd crackling, this was only his third spin up since coming back and so far each mission had been a cake walk, hell last time he had come back without firing a single shot.

Frankly Clay had been pretty sure no-one needed to overwatch that mission. He sighed, he was starting to feel like he was just something else for Bravo to look out for, more hindrance then help. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that 'how are you?' was code for 'how's the leg or can you do this?' and he would have to be blind to miss the pointed looks between Jason and Ray that followed him everywhere, it hadn't been until the long hike through the rainforest to this lonely encampment that he had become aware that the looks were directly related to a new, sub-conscious habit he had picked up of bouncing a few times on his leg before moving off. Sonny's latest nickname of hop-a-long made a lot more sense and stung a little harder after that.

He heard Ray both faintly behind him and in a crackle over his radio.

"Cop- 1, exfil -out cle-"

So much for his triumphant return, looked like once again his only addition to the AAR's would be to comment on an intermittent crackle to transmissions in & out of his radio.

The had been assured by, what was his name? the skinny, nervous kid, new Davis, that the radio had been checked out and was fine but the last message had crackled, he was sure of it, the radio was bad ju-ju.

Great, now he even sounded like Sonny.

Speaking of, Clay lowered the barrel of his gun as his best friend jogged into view, towing the 3 bedraggled aid workers they had been sent to free behind him.

If you had told him 2 years ago that the hard edged, short tempered Texan would be Bravo's go to man to guide civilians through warzones and gunfights he wouldn't have believe it but Sonny's ability to find the joke in the worst of places gave a confidence to even the most shell shocked victims.

The rest of Bravo come into view, scanning around them as the thump of a helo settling came from somewhere over his shoulder.

He waited until Trent, bring up the rear, had trotted past him before he pushed himself up, took a last look around and moved off, his radio crackled again, this time too distorted to distinguish anything, he looked up to see Trent swinging into the helo as all hell broke loose.

Clay broke into a run, seeing the guys in the chopper laying down cover, the chopper had started to lift, gaining air as the bullets tinged off the metal, he jumped in feeling the blast of an RPG behind him & the chopper raising.

"NO," screamed Jason next to him, " go down, GO DOWN, I've got a man down there"

Clay twisted round, through the smoke he could see Ray laying motionless in the dirt.

The chopper was 9, now 10, 14 feet off the ground.

I can make it.

The thought wasn't even complete & Clay was in the air, dropping out the side of the helo like a stone, in the instant before he touched down a second though rushed in - My leg! - then he hit the ground & rolled, rifle hugged to his chest.

Fire, move position, fire, repeat until he reached Ray, grabbed the back of his collar & dragged him behind a frankly poor excuse for a boulder.

Fire. Fire. Fire.

Where the hell had they come from, where the hell had Havoc been?

His radio popped & crackled.

The helo was high now, turning, leaving, the last image of it is Jason, leaning out, mouth open.

The gunfire picks up again, emboldened by the helos retreat.

Mag empty, no time to reload, he throws everything he has at them, frag, flash bangs, smoke before he does the only thing left to him, he pulls Ray over his shoulders & runs, sprinting for the trees.


	2. Chapter 2

Ray watches Clay ahead of him, squirming in his foxhole.

He frowned, something wasn't right. Ray had been as happy as anyone else at Clay's almost miraculous return from being blown up, but now he wasn't as sure.

The kid was off somehow, he was quieter & a hell of a lot less cocky & it didn't sit right.

"Bravo 2, 6, this is 1, targets secure, we're coming to you"

"Copy 1, exfil route clear, helo inbound"

Ray sat steady as the team filed past him, watching Clay as he got up, testing his leg before heading back.

"Bravo 1 this is Havoc, you have massed enemy incoming"

Clay kept moving steadily towards exfil without missing a beat, come on kid hurry up, Ray waited until Clay was past before he started to move in earnest, last man on the field was never a good place to be.

He felt a thud on his vest, followed by a searing heat in his thigh & side, as he went down the world exploded in front of him.

* * *

Pain. Oh God pain, a pain that sucked his breath away.

He forces himself to open his eyes but what he sees doesn't make sense. The ground is flashing by, he can hear footsteps & yelling, the zip of bullets.

A boot & a flash of camo swings in & out of his vision.

Jason.

Ray closed his eyes, Jason was here & everything would be fine.

The three truths that allowed him to do this job were simple.

His God would protect his soul, Naima his heart & Jason Hayes his back.

While those things stood, Ray would survive.

He let the black swallow him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Clay ran, weaving through the trees at full tilt, rifle banging across his chest.

He could feel blood that he knew wasn't his dripping down his neck but he dares not stop, not yet.

When he finally outpaced the voices behind him, he carefully lowered the limp man across his shoulders to the ground.

He pulled up Ray's shirt, inspecting the hole low on his side, the blood welled and seeped but didn't look as bad as Clay had been imagining, no gaping hole, no torn flesh.

No exit wound either though. He was sure during one of the medic courses it had been said that gut shots were a slow way to go and now he wished that he had asked how long slow was, did he have an hour to get help or two or was it already too late?

He pulled out his med kit and bandaged the wound tightly, the groan and shifting under his hands a relief. Then he cut open the pant leg and repeated the same actions to the wound there.

Clay ignored the small lumps of RPG shrapnel as he pulled off Ray's helmet to check for head wounds and held onto the fact that there was nothing glaring and maybe, just maybe, Ray was out cold from the percussion of the RPG and not something worse, something Clay couldn't see.

He was out of his depth, he needed help. How he wished Trent was there.

"Havoc this is Bravo 6, do you copy?"

Silence

"Bravo 6 to any Bravo call signs, do you copy?"

Nothing, not even that god forsaken crackle.

He reached over and pulled Ray's radio out.

Son of a bitch, the radio had a chunk of shrapnel wedged in it.

Fine, helmet strobe it was, not a hell of a lot of good in a damn forest where he could barely see the sky, but then, it was better than nothing.

Right, stretcher. He pulled the wad of canvas from his ruck, carefully rolling Ray onto his side and working the material underneath him before easing him back, pulling out his GPS, compass and map he reset his pack on his back.

Whack.

Falling forward onto Ray, his head screaming at him, he heard a second bullet whistled past.

One hand on the stretcher he crawled behind a tree and slid his rifle out from under him.

Give me a break, Clay steadied his breathing, checked his gun then slowly edged out until he could see past the line of the wide trunk.

Where are you? Where are you?

A shadow moved and Clay fired, a figure toppled into view, then the crack of a gun and splinters flew from the tree.

Clay felt where the shot came from as much as he heard, an old instinct returning like a long forgotten friend.

A slow breath out and pull the trigger. A good shot, he could tell.

Steady now he scanned the jungle, looking for movement, a shape that didn't fit, the familiar curve of a human outline.

There. Breathe. Fire. Hit.

A muffled curse and the hasty sounds of retreat.

Yeah, your turn to run now.

They would be back, he sure of that.

Time to move.

Clay checked his map, marked his position and got a heading, he lifted the stretcher with one hand and as the soft sound of dogs barking reached his ears he set off running again.

* * *

struggled with this one trying to explain what I could imagine, apologies for where its a bit clunky


	4. Chapter 4

The dappled light of daytime waned as Clay dropped to his knees.

He had run, he had run even though his arm ached from the weight of the stretcher, he had run as his legs had turned to jelly and his breath had caught in his throat. He had run as his heart had tried to beat its way out of his chest and now he was done.

The barking that had chased him on and off all day was back again.

No-one could outrun dogs.

Clay had watched Cerb in action enough times to know that as a certainity.

In the beginning he had held tight to the hope that these were not Cerberus dogs, that they were, at best, some farmers dogs, mongrels, or maybe guard dogs, the type that slept all day to wander a compound a night, unfit dogs that barked and postured but nothing else. At the very worst hunting dogs, use to chasing down pigs but unfamiliar with tracking people.

But now the sun was going down and he was spent.

All the doubts that had plagued him since Manila were drowning him, he was alone, a brother was slowly bleeding out beside him & he couldn't do a thing.

The familiar scent of Africa washed over him, his childhood home would be were his life ended.

He caught the lump that rose in his throat, swallowed it and the memory came flooding back.

A blond headed boy leaning against a mud hut trying not to cry.

A man, so old to him then, slid down beside him.

"What is wrong child?"

"The others, they won't play with me, they run away and I can't keep up and they won't wait"

"Do you think sitting here in the dirt will fix that?"

"No, but I can't, I CAN'T catch them, they are too big and they laugh when I tell them to stop"

"Oh lad, children here run from the day they can stand. Look around you. Do you see any cars? Bikes? Horses?"

Clay shook his head.

"Running to them is like breathing, would you stop breathing if someone asked you too?"

Clay shook his head again.

The old man looked at him kindly

"Would you like to know the secret to running child?"

Hope flared in Clay as he nodded

"It's not about being the biggest, the strongest, it's not even about being the fastest. It's about being the stubbornest. It's about putting one foot in front of the other long after everyone else has given up, that is how you learn to run like the wind"

Clay looked up to the deepening gloom.

Now should be his time, the dark was a SEALS time to hunt but he couldn't get off the ground.

Off to his right a dog barked again.

His right.

Where he hadn't been.

There was no breeze either.

A farmer's dog, a fat guard dog, not a Cerberus dog trained to find a man no matter what.

He pushed himself to his feet.

He wasn't the biggest, he certainly wasn't the strongest right now and he wouldn't be the fastest again, not with a leg under him that he didn't entirely trust anymore.

But he had stubborn in spades and no-one would take that from him.

He lifted the stretcher, flicked down his NVD's and turned himself to the left as he put one foot in front of the other, each step a little stronger, a little faster until the trees were flashing past him again.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for lovely comments, I'm glad you like it.

I'm busy for the rest of the week so I'm going to try to get this finished up

* * *

The cool night air greeted Ray as he waked.

Jase…. "Jase"

A hand clapped over his mouth and the smell of sweat filled his nose.

"Shhh brother, I need you to be quiet, ok?"

Ray nodded and the hand softened, then left.

A face loomed close.

"You're ok Ray" came the whisper "I've got you but I need you to stay quiet, stay still. We've run out of cover & they're ahead, waiting for us to break the tree line. Not so dumb are they? I'm going clear the way. I'll come back for you. Promise"

Then Ray was alone, listening in the dark.

A muffled thud, a question on the wind in a language Ray didn't recognise. A cry cut short, the rapid fire of an AK followed by the crack of a sniper rifle.

Footsteps.

Ray tensed, then the sour smell of sweat again along with the sharp tang of blood.

"Hey brother, all good now"

"Jase?"

"No, no it's Clay. Jase…. Jase isn't here right now, but we'll see him soon. You just keep fighting, keep breathing, keep quiet. I'm going to get you home, just hang on"

His felt his head lift off the ground and they moved out under a star filled sky, felt the world sliding past him as they stepped up into a run.

Even through the fog of morphine the bumping of his feet along the ground sent waves of pain up and over him, it took everything he had to keep quiet, to keep breathing.

He found himself praying for the sound of engines that meant they would stop, to lay motionless while the lights moved across the grass, for the comforting weight of a hand on his chest and the soft whispering beside him telling him that it was alright, he would be ok.

He wanted to tell them that he would be ok, if only they would stop, stop the moving to stop the pain but they didn't.

Eventually the vehicles came less and the pain more until he finally closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Clay's face hit the dirt and jarred him back into reality.

The sun pounded down on his bare head, intensifying the ache at the top of his brain.

His simple joy at finding a track, a dirt road that, according to his map and compass should lead him towards the dusty base they had started this mission to hell from had long since vanished, he had lost any chance of making the alternate exfil during the relentless escape and evade so had hoped that the road would be their salvation.

The second or third time he had fallen he had moved his helmet to Ray, aware that hitting the ground repeatedly wasn't doing the injured man's head any favours.

The dismay at discovering his head strobe was no more than bits of plastic and dangling wires had hit him hard.

The hit to his helmet all those long hours ago, the lucky miss that could've ended his life had instead destroyed his last chance of signalling help, realistically he knew the chances of the ISR looking for them this far from that first contact was next to none, but he had held on to the hope they would come because otherwise all he had left to get them out of this disaster was him.

He checked Ray for a pulse, he had believed that nothing could be worse than listening to the stifled gasps and soft murmurings that had come from the stretcher all night but right now he would give anything for a single sound.

Thud…. Thud.

The bleeding had slowed hours ago but if that was good or bad Clay didn't know anymore, his legs shook and the world was blurry at the edges of his vision.

Get up

Get UP

GET UP DAMN YOU.

Come on, it's just one foot in front of the other, he wiped a drop of blood off his chin and walked forward again into the bright glare.


	7. Chapter 7

Jason stared in horror as his best friend staggered and went down.

He felt the chopper ascending and screamed at the pilot.

"NO, go down, GO DOWN, I've got a man down there"

The pilot shook his head, they were taking fire, oil pressures wavering.

Jason felt something brush past him and saw Clay dropping from the helo.

Christ, Clay was hit, he had fallen out.

Brock lurched, grabbing at the air in an attempt to catch any part or Clay.

Sonny yelled in the background.

Jason looked down, watching in disbelief as Clay fired and moved grabbing Ray and dragging him across the sand, he leaned out the side of the chopper desperate to see for as long as possible while calling down the radio "We're coming back, we're coming"

His words whipped away in the rushing air.

Every man in Bravo yelled at the helo crew, they yelled down the radios, they threatened, pleaded, begged.

The chopper didn't stop.

No, came the reply, we're losing oil, can't do anything but go home, won't even drop and hover while they jump out, can't risk the bird, the civilians, them.

No negotiation.

The helo, streaming smoke, barely cleared the perimeter fence, setting down hard enough to make the freed hostages scream and rattle Jason's teeth.

Brock sat deathly still opposite him, head in hands. Trent, focused as always, helped the shaken people out handing them off to the waiting medical crew, while Sonny, Sonny flew out of the bird and reefed the pilot's door open, physically dragging the man from his seat.

"Sonny stop… Sonny quit it"

Sonny paused, fist raised.

"We need him to fly us back out"

Sonny dropped the pilot and thumped the chopper instead.

A shadow fell across Bravo 1, he looked up.

"Get me back out there Blackburn"

"Sorry Jase, not as simple as that"

"Get me a chopper and get us back out to our men"

"Look, its more.. complicated.. then that, I think you should come with me"

They stepped into the C-17, Blackburn nodded and ISR footage came up on the screen in front of Jason and his team. They watched in silence as swarms of hostiles emerged from the jungle on one side of the screen, watched as the helo edged away and as their brothers disappeared into the trees.

"We can't raise them on the radio and ISR can't find them under the canopy. If I send you back out, I wouldn't have a clue if I was putting you down anywhere near them. If we had the dog it would be different, but we don't. The QRF team have secured the back-up exfil and will wait there as long as possible. It's the best plan we have"

The hours that followed would stick in the support crews minds forever. Jason raged and yelled, venting his frustrations on anyone that crossed his path.

Sonny threw things across the aircraft until Blackburn kicked him out.

Trent and Brock quietly shoved people out of the way and watched screens with an intensity that was a whole different level of scary.

The day dragged on, Edwards.. the new guy, the new Davis, although he had in no way earned that level of respect yet, swore until he was red in the face that he had seen a ping of a strobe earlier, Jason rewound the footage over and over until he saw the momentary flash the young man had been talking about, clapped him on the shoulder and demanded another chopper. Blackburn pointed out that there was no chance of landing a chopper near that location and with no more signals which way would they go once they got there?

So Jason raged again, trying to back Eric into the wall until Brock pulled him off and the watching started again.

Day turned to night, the crew broke into shifts, some waiting while the others slept.

Except Bravo, Bravo watched on.

The ISR screens went dark as the drone winged its way home on the last shreds of it's battery.

Satellite maps came out, possible plots drawn, distances measured, villages marked as friendly, unfriendly, unknown.

The night that seemed endless finally surrendered to the light.

Edwards smuggled food and coffee from the mess into the plane in defiance of the strict rule forbidding both near the equipment. Blackburn turned a blind eye.

Brock dozed in his seat. Sonny, finally allowed back in paced up and down, wearing on Jason's nerves like only he could.

The sun rose higher, heating up the plane, re-flaming tempers.

Blackburn ordered Bravo to rest. If, when, they found them they would need to be sharp.

Brock slumbered on in his chair, oblivious to the sounds around him. Sonny shook his head and claimed to have napped while he was cooling off, no-one believed him but no-one was willing to push the point.

Trent nodded tiredly as Jason pulled him up. They dragged their feet, procrastinating in a way that was unnatural to a navy seal. Blackburn stood firm and sent them down the ramp.

Jason and Trent had nearly made it back to their temporary accommodation when Trent piped up

"Hey Jason, what do you think is happening?" lifting his chin at a group of people running towards the fence.

Jason shrugged, right now he couldn't care, his thoughts were on Ray's bed beside his, or more specifically, Ray's phone on that bed, that probably had a text from Naima on it, awaiting a reply.

"No Boss, somethings up"

They changed direction heading toward the gate and the small but growing group milling there.

Jason pushed his way to the wire and looked across the flats.

Nothing.

No, wait. On the road in the distance a lump moved, it lifted, grew slowly into the shape of a man and staggered forward.

Trent grabbed his arm in a vice like grip and Jason started as he heard the strangled whisper beside him.

"Clay"

All the pieces suddenly dropped together in Jason's mind and he ran, Trent beside him.

The guards bristling at the gate, weapons at the ready at the strange figure on the road hollered at them as they pushed past.

"Get the medic" he heard Trent call as they raced down the road.

Jason reached Clay in time to catch him as he went down again, he looked over Bravo 6's shoulder at the stretcher dragging behind him. Trent knelt beside Ray's still form and Jason's heart stopped as he watched him push desperately at the pulse point. Trent's eyes met his.. "got a pulse, its not great but its there"

The world spun back into motion, voices coming up behind him, with Trent leading the way Ray was carefully lifted and carried to the ambulance that was following the crowd.

Clay lurched in Jason's arms.

"Hey, Clay-boy, you made it, it's ok, Clay…Clay"

Clay slowly focused in on Jason's face.

"Boss, you found us."


	8. Chapter 8

Ray awoke to a room that was all too familiar, even though he had never been in it before

It didn't take long before he saw Naima, sleeping upright in the rigid hospital chair, hair askew, mouth open, yet as beautiful as ever.

"Naima"

She jolted up, pushing the hair from her face, worry and tension falling away as she saw Ray smiling at her.

She enveloped him in her arms and held him like he would slip away if she wasn't careful. By the time Ray got her to let go her tears had long dried. They're already in the air, she told him, Eric said they will come as soon as they've landed.

After that the hours passed like treacle. Naima told him what little she knew, Ray knowing even less. Nurses, doctors, questions. Naima's mother bringing the children past for sticky, fierce cuddles & gentle reassurances.

Just as Ray felt like they would never arrive, he heard the laughter and sounds of the team, his brothers, echoing down the corridor. He pushed himself up as first Blackburn entered the room, followed closely by Brock and Trent laughing at something unknown, Sonny next, some quip about Batman rolling off his tongue, a pause and Jason making a beeline straight for him, arm outstretched. Ray grasped him as he drew close and pulled his oldest friend in.

"Don't you ever do that to me again brother"

"Don't plan to" he replied

Ray counted the faces in the room, question rising then falling away as Spenser's frame filled the doorway.

The room fell silent, Ray watched as every pair of eyes glanced back and forth from him to Spenser.

Jason stepped aside and motioned Clay towards the only chair in the room.

Something was wrong.

As Clay stepped out of the shadow Ray stared. The younger mans face was sunburnt and grazed. His forehead, nose, chin and most of his right cheek scratched and scraped like Jameelah's knees after Ray had taken the training wheels off her bike.

Six moved with a caution that spoke of a dozen aches, the sort that come from deep in your bones and he stared at Ray like he was an oasis in the desert, like he was drinking in the sight of him, Clay didn't break contact until he had drawn Ray into a firm, wordless hug before easing himself into the waiting chair.

"What happened to you?"

"Boy Wonder here lost a fight with the ground, several fights in fact" intersected Sonny

Ray knew it, "Your leg?"

Clay smiled, "No, legs golden, perfect, 100%"

Yes, the kid looked terrible, no-one could deny that, but there was something else, the voice was strong and self-assured, the smile genuine and there was something about the way he carried himself that had been missing since his return.

Ray didn't know what had happened out there but this, this was the old Clay, the one they hadn't known if they would see again.


End file.
